The Poet's Light The gleam upon the inkwell's rim mirrors the moon's last silver rind; the golden candle's glow grows dim, but in the writer's restless mind a fiercer, subtlier fire rages -- the letters dance their arcane rite; the pen sows ink across the pages in lightning leaps; on legs of light, the words come settling into place like birds upon the growing line, like stones a hidden hand has flung, that fall, and make a clean design.